


Joint Custody

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Didn't Know They Were Dating, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 18:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: All Emma wants is a pajama top to wear to bed. All Killian needs is the bottoms. Cue the meet-cute!
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 44
Kudos: 197





	Joint Custody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThislassisHooked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThislassisHooked/gifts).

> * Forever ago, I had a give away contest on tumblr for those who had read my book What Hindered Love. @thislassishooked won the drawing, and FINALLY, here it is: her gift. She asked for a fic with slightly nerdy Killian with a job in science, and a friends to lovers scenario in which they are essentially dating and don’t realize it, but all their friends do. So here you go, @thislassishooked, your story! I hope you like it. Part of the reason it took so long is because I had another story half written, but it sucked and I had to start over. I wanted this to be a great prize for you!
> 
> * This story is based on a meet cute prompt that I found on a blog somewhere. In trying to find said blog again, I learned that this particular meet-cute is considered by some to be the first one ever used in film in the 1938 movie Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife. I had no idea!
> 
> * And if you’d like to read my book What Hindered Love, you can get it on Amazon!

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that if a woman is wearing a man’s pajama top, they’ve just engaged in some extremely enjoyable activities. 

Ok, maybe it’s not a  _ universal _ truth, but Killian’s fairly certain most men would make that assumption. He would have too, before Emma Swan came into his life. 

Emma Swan, who is currently sitting on his couch with her feet in his lap, wearing the pajama shirt that matches the bottoms he’s currently wearing. They’re even blue to match his eyes, but not hers, because Emma’s the one who told him green wasn’t his color the day the two of them met. And because of that (the day they met, not the color of the pajamas), he’s being tortured by her long legs poking out beneath that men’s shirt, stuck frustratingly in the friend zone.

Emma Swan is wearing his pajama top, and there have been no enjoyable activities with her on her back. 

He needs a cold shower.

***********************************************************

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that men and women can’t be friends. 

Ok, maybe it’s only been universal since  _ When Harry Met Sally _ , but Emma’s seen it. Ok, she’s never  _ technically _ seen that movie, but she’s seen clips and memes and gifs, and I mean, everybody  _ knows  _ that movie even if they’ve never seen it. It’s how Emma knows this truth.

It’s also how she knew she could fake an orgasm before actually trying it, but that’s entirely beside the point. 

Contrary to what Ruby may say, Emma did  _ not  _ approach Killian Jones in Modern Fashion because he was hot. He was looking at the same pajamas she was, and his build  _ was _ perfect (to snatch his pajama top, that is). Emma still can’t quite believe she proposed such a thing to a complete stranger, but she was already pissed about the fake pockets on her new pair of jeans and the women’s fashion industry in general, and when Emma was pissed, her common sense sometimes flew out the window.

*********************************************************

It had all started when he arrived in Storybrooke, Maine with his research team and discovered that his wardrobe was completely lacking for New England winters. His nightwear in particular. He and his team had been traveling the Atlantic collecting data on climate change, and their previous stay in Bermuda had evidently spoiled him. He preferred to sleep on board the ship, and his boxers just weren’t cutting it for the cold Maine nights. So he’d headed downtown to the only clothing store in Storybrooke: Modern Fashion. Though “modern” was stretching it - the selection of styles were so dated, it looked like the cast of  _ Stranger Things  _ shopped here. 

There was only one rack of men’s pajamas - sets of flannel plaid pants and button down shirts offered in shades of various colors. He was weighing his options, wondering just how many pairs he really needed, when  _ she  _ approached him with a pair of red ones in her hands.

“Do you even need the shirts that go with those?”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Pardon me?”

She shook her head, a slight tinge of pink upon her cheeks, and it was then that he was struck by her beauty. Long, golden blonde hair, jade green eyes, and an adorable dimple in her chin. Yet the word “adorable” wasn’t one he would dare use on this woman. There was something about her stance and the edge to her words that let him know she wasn’t one to trifle with. 

“I know for a fact men rarely wear those kinds of shirts to bed. You men are like saunas radiating heat, know what I mean?” 

“Are you asking me to warm your bed, lass?” he teased with a quirk of his brow.

She rolled her eyes heavenward, and for some reason he found it incredibly arousing. “Oh for the love of God, I am  _ not  _ hitting on you. I have a kid, for God’s sake, I don’t ask strange men to warm my bed.”

“To be fair, you did sort of walk into it, though.”

He was rewarded with a laugh at that, and he had the sudden urge to make her laugh again. Her casual mention of a child also had him glancing at her left finger. No ring. Relief flooded him. 

“I guess you’re right. What I’m trying to get at is . . . “ she paused, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, “I want a shirt like this to sleep in, but I don’t want to pay for pants I’m not gonna wear, so I thought -”

“You thought we could share joint custody of the pajamas?” he finished for her with a quirk of his brow. 

“Something like that,” she replied tersely.

She shuffled her feet nervously, and he could tell she was regretting approaching him. He leaned against the clothes rack and regarded her with a flirtatious waggle of his eyebrows. “Before we negotiate splitting up the pajamas, can I at least have a name?”

She pressed her lips together, and he could practically see the inner debate raging in her mind. “Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones,” he said, offering her his hand. Once her slender fingers were resting in his palm, he leaned closer, and said, “To answer your previous question, no, I was not planning on wearing the tops. I prefer to let my chest hair breath.” He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip as he pulled away, releasing her hand slowly.

**********************************************

That damn tongue should have been a warning to Emma, but oh no, she had to have her comfortable pajama tops at all costs. Why couldn’t Storybrooke have a decent, well stocked clothing store? This place was right out of Hawkins, Indiana circa 1983. 

“Okay then,” Emma replied, ignoring his innuendo completely, “I’ll buy this red pair, you buy a pair, and then we divide them up.”

Thankfully, Killian dropped the flirting and shrugged his consent as he tossed the second pair in his hands back onto the shop display. 

“Not those,” Emma quickly put in.

Killian quirked a brow at her. “You get to pick the colors, too?”

Emma sighed. “No, you can get those if you want, but the blue ones would look better on you. Green isn’t your color.”

“But they match your eyes.”

Emma would normally have scoffed at a comment like that, but she was taken aback at his complete sincerity as he leveled his piercing gaze on her. It suddenly felt very warm in the room as she lifted her hair off her neck with one hand for some air and then dropped it back in place.

“The blue matches yours,” she managed to say with a casual air. 

“Well okay then,” he replied with a pleased grin upon his face. 

She spun on her heel before he could see the red blooming on her cheeks. He fell into step beside her as they approached the counter. Lily Page, whom she had known since kindergarten, was behind the register and by the widening of her eyes, Emma knew she was in trouble. She and Lily had been friends way back in middle school, but had little in common now. That didn’t mean Lily wouldn’t pry into her business, however. That was just Storybrooke, especially when your father was the sheriff. 

“You don’t have to go up to the register with me,” she hissed without looking Killian’s way. 

“As you wish, love,” he answered in his swoon-worthy British accent. 

Not that Emma was swooning, mind you. Smiling, maybe, but not swooning.  _ Princess Bride _ was her favorite, that’s all. It had nothing to do with his accent, or his blue eyes, or his chest hair that apparently needed to breathe at night. 

Killian paid for his pajamas first and left the store with nary a glance Emma’s way. Playing it cool, she was impressed. Or maybe he was too busy flirting with Lily, who thankfully did nothing but glare at him when he winked at her. 

Thankfully? Wait - what? Emma didn’t care if Lily liked this guy’s winking or not. He was just a means to her pajama tops. 

“So,” Lily said casually, as she folded up the red pajamas, “I saw you talking to that guy over there.”

Emma shrugged, silently cursing the blush that warmed her cheeks. “He just asked what color I thought he should get.”

“Hmm,” Lily said in a voice that clearly hinted that she wasn’t buying it, “he’s quite the flirt, though.”

“I guess,” Emma replied with a noncommittal shrug.

She had never been more relieved to grab her bags and walk away from the register. As the door to Modern Fashion shut behind her, she saw Killian Jones waiting for her on the sidewalk, his own store bag swinging from his right hand, his left slid casually into his jeans pocket. Emma approached him, pulling the red pajama pants out of her bag. He took them, but before he would hand over the blue shirt, he gave Emma a crooked smile and mischief sparkled in his eyes. 

“Before I hand over the shirt, we need to discuss an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?”

“Yes, for joint custody of the pajamas. Naturally.”

Emma groaned as he leaned into her personal space. “We don’t have joint custody - I’m taking the tops and you’re taking the bottoms.”

“Remember Solomon? If you really loved them, you’d let me have them whole and unharmed.”

“Huh?”

“You know, the mothers who argued over the baby, and King Solomon knew the real mother would give the baby up to keep him safe?”

“You seriously just made a Bible reference over pajamas?”

Killian gave her a lopsided grin that absolutely  _ did _ not remind her of Han Solo. “Ok, how about a pop culture reference? His and hers kids.”

Emma bit down on her lower lip to keep from smiling at his ridiculousness. “Like  _ Parent  _

_ Trap _ ?” God, how many pop culture references were cramming her brain today? She was turning into a Gilmore girl. Seriously, another one?

“Aye,” Killian said, “but the classic Hayley Mills one, not the Lindsey Lohan one,”

“I like the Lindsey Lohan one.”

He quirked a brow at her and sauntered closer. “Have you ever even  _ seen  _ the original?”

“Well . . . no.” She was trying really hard not to take a step back or, you know, swoon or something. 

“Ah! Then we really must remedy that. Our first act sharing joint custody of the pajamas -”

“Quit saying joint custody.”

“As I was saying -  _ joint custody _ of the pajamas means we must have a movie night. A Hayley Mills movie night. You know, for visitation.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I had a kid?”

“Bring him along!”

Emma blinked. That wasn’t the normal response she got from men when they found out she was a mom. “I don’t let men I just met hang out with my son.”

Killian nodded, all trace of flirting gone. “Of course, lass, I apologize. Enjoy your pajamas.”

He flashed her another charming smile, handed her the blue pajama tops, then turned and sauntered away. She was simultaneously touched at the way he had backed off when concern for her child came into play and strangely disappointed. At any rate, that should have been it, but Storybrooke was a small town . . . 

*********************************************************

Killian first ran into her again at the drug store. His immune system had gotten used to the Florida weather too, apparently, and he had a minor cold. He turned down the cough syrup aisle, and there she was, buying cough syrup for her son. They’d chatted, him teasingly asking how the pajamas were doing. Then he’d asked about the cough syrup, and her brow had furrowed as she told him her lad - Henry - was sick. He’d wished the boy well, and they had parted ways, but he’d thought of the exchange and the motherly concern upon her face for far longer. 

The second time he ran into her he’d discovered her profession. Killian had been irate when he found the beach littered with beer cans and other refuse one Sunday morning and had called the local police. His heart stuttered in his chest when  _ she  _ stepped out of the squad car. She had been professional, assuring him that they would try their best to discover who had littered the beach and fine them accordingly. Yet he had still managed to discover a bit more about her - that her father was the sheriff and that she had returned home to be his deputy largely because of Henry. Reading between the lines, he surmised that Henry’s father had never been in the picture. Emma Swan was a beautiful mystery that intrigued him the more he was around her. 

The third time he saw her, he had the honor of finally meeting Henry. The entire time he had imagined a boy of five or six, and was taken aback to meet a lad of ten instead. Another piece of the Emma Swan puzzle fell into place as he realized how young she must have been when he was born. The way she guarded herself made much more sense. 

He came into Granny’s diner to pick up his lunch order, and when he turned to leave, the boy literally ran into him.

“Henry!” Emma exclaimed. “Slow down, kid!”

“Oh, sorry,” the boy muttered sheepishly.

“No harm done,” Killian replied with a grin. He looked up at Emma. “Good to see you again, Swan.”

She rewarded him with a smile.

“Are you from England?” Henry asked. “You sound like you go to Hogwarts or have been to Narnia.”

Killian grinned broadly at the boy. “Or I’ve been to Neverland.”

“Or Wonderland,” the boy continued with a huge smile on his face.

Killian cocked his head. “Or maybe I’ve jumped into a chalk drawing or stolen from the rich to give to the poor.”

Henry laughed. “Your country got all the best stories.”

“I have to agree with you there, though you Yanks did get cowboys and Huck Finn and every character ever played by Harrison Ford.”

“Okay you two nerds,” Emma interrupted with a roll of her eyes and affection in her voice, “I’m sure Killian wants to get back to his boat and eat his lunch.”

“You live on a boat?” Henry exclaimed.

“A ship,” Killian corrected, wagging his finger at Emma, “a research ship.”

“Cool!”

“Calm down, kid,” Emma told him, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “like I said, he’s probably in a hurry.”

“Not at all, Swan,” Killian corrected, “and I love to talk about the ocean and all its mysteries.” He directed the last sentence at the lad.

“Can you stay and eat lunch with us?” Henry asked, then turned to Emma. “Please mom, can he?”

Emma shrugged. “If he wants to.”

“Do you?” Henry asked Killian, suddenly hesitant.

“Lunch with the two of you would be vastly better than alone on my ship.”

That lunch did two things for Killian. For one, Henry Swan claimed a part of his heart that he hadn’t even known had been neglected. It also was the beginning of his movie nights with the Swans. It started with Killian asking Emma if she had seen the Hayley Mills  _ Parent Trap _ yet, which developed into a debate with Henry about whether or not the classic was always better than the remake. Naturally, he and Henry decided that the only way to solve their impasse was to experiment, so that night he showed up at Emma’s apartment where Henry had both versions of  _ Parent Trap  _ ready to stream on their television. It became somewhat of a tradition. Henry and Emma begrudgingly admitted that Hayley Mills was better at the twin swapping than Lindey Lohan. However, Killian had to admit that sometimes the remake  _ was _ better after their viewing of both versions of  _ Hairspray _ . 

Movie nights, naturally, included dinner (pizza when Emma was in charge of the food, grilled fresh caught fish when it was Killian’s turn), but at some point they turned into all day events. Sometimes they would go to the park while other times Killian would take them out sailing. Emma and Henry both became a natural part of Killian’s life before he even realized it was happening. 

He also fell in love with Emma Swan without realizing it. Slowly, over time, they began to spend time together without Henry. And sometimes, like tonight, they would have a movie night just the two of them after Henry was in bed. 

And that’s how he got here, sexually frustrated with Emma in one of those damn pajama tops that showed off almost all of her legs. The light of the television flickered over her face, highlighting her cheekbones and playing across her golden hair.

“Emma,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” she smiled at him, and the fear of losing that smile almost made him chicken out. Almost

“I can’t do this anymore.”

There went the smile. Her brow furrowed and she pulled her feet quickly out of Killian’s lap, tucking them beneath her instead. 

“What are you talking about?”

Killian sighed and ran his hand down his face. He slid across the couch until their thighs were pressed together, and he took it as a small victory when she didn’t move away. His eyes scanned her face, falling to land on her lips.

“This just friends thing.” His breath was ragged now. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Emma, and I can’t . . . “

His voice trailed off as he leaned closer, his nose brushing hers. 

“Can’t what?” she asked breathlessly. He took that as a small victory too.

“I want more.”

“What about Henry?”

“I care about Henry, too. I’m in this for the long haul, Emma.”

They were breathing the same air now, their foreheads pressed together. Killian slanted his lips over hers and exulted when she melted against him, their bodies molding together as they slid against the cushions of the couch to a horizontal position. His tongue slid against hers, one hand tangled in her hair and the other sliding up the length of her bare leg.

“Emma,” he moaned as he broke away to trail kisses down her neck. 

“I’m . . . we . . . “ Emma’s words were incoherent and he smiled against her collarbone. He felt her swallow. “Killian,” she finally managed to say in a normal voice as she pushed against his chest and slid back to a seated position. He blinked at her in confusion. 

“Emma?”

“You need to go. Now.”

He reached out for her, but she rose from the couch, wrapping herself in a throw blanket. 

“Let’s talk about this, love.”

Emma hugged the blanket tighter around herself as she shook her head. “I should have been more careful. This can’t happen Killian.”

He rose and took a step towards her, but she took three steps back. “Why not? This isn’t a casual thing for me, Emma, believe me.”

Emma bit her lower lip as her eyes welled with tears. “I know that. And that’s why I . . . “ she shook her head again. “Please,” she whispered, “just go.”

Killian sighed in defeat. “As you wish.”

**************************************************************

“And you just kicked him out?” 

Emma winced because Ruby was practically shouting in the middle of Granny’s. “Could you keep your voice down?”

“Though it is a legitimate question,” Regina snarked before taking a bite of her salad. 

“I didn’t kick him out! I asked him to leave, there’s a difference.”

“You had the man horizontal on your couch, and you didn’t take advantage of it?”

“Ruby!” Emma’s face burned red.

“Again, a legitimate question,” Regina put in.

Emma rubbed her face wearily. “First of all, I can’t be making out on my couch. I’ve got a kid!”

“No, Emma,” Regina told her, lifting one finger in the air with way too much authority. There was a reason Emma’s dad jokingly called her  _ queen mayor _ . “Stop using Henry as an excuse. If anyone has proven himself where Henry is concerned its Killian.”

“But that’s just it!” Emma argued. “If Killian and I get involved, Henry is the one who will get hurt when it ends.”

Ruby and Regina glanced at each other and then burst out laughing. Emma scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“What’s so funny?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Emma, are you that dense? You and Killian already  _ are  _ involved.”

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes. “It isn’t like that with him.”

“Let’s look at the evidence,” Regina said, ticking each one off on her finger. “You spend all your free time together. You talk about him constantly. He hangs out with your son. You text each other all day long. You, my friend, have a boyfriend whether you want to admit it or not.”

“But,” Emma sputtered, “we don’t . . . I mean we haven’t . . . “

“Yeah,” Ruby teased, “and I don’t get that at all. Why haven’t you?”

“Because she’s scared,” Regina answered for her.

“No I’m not! I’m just smart.” Emma argued. “I have to be cautious. I’m a single mom.”

“Or,” Ruby said softly, placing a hand over Emma’s, “Neal hurt you so badly you don’t want to risk your heart again.”

Emma sagged in the booth. “Maybe,” she admitted softly, “which is exactly why Killian and I make no sense.”

Regina shook her head. “No,  _ you’re  _ not making any sense. You two are perfect together.”

“What difference does that make when he’s just going to leave?”

Ruby furrowed her brow. “I can’t see him doing that at all.”

“I already know he will! It’s his job! Don’t you two see? He’s collecting marine research. He doesn’t put down roots.”

Regina threw her head back and laughed again. It was beginning to get on Emma’s nerves. 

“My god, Emma, do you and lover boy even talk?”

“Of course we talk, according to you two, we talk too much and not enough . . . you know . . . “

Regina shook her head. “Emma, Killian’s about to finish his research. Then he can analyze it and write up his results anywhere he wants.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, what? How would you know anything about it?”

“He and Robin have become good friends. Killian even told Robin that he likes Storybrooke and can see a future here.”

“Let me guess,” Ruby said with a sing-song voice and a teasing smile, “with Emma and Henry.”

Emma felt slightly dizzy and her heartbeat stuttered. “I . . . I’ve got to go . . . “ she muttered as she jumped up from the booth. 

**********************************************************

There was a pounding on the door to Killian ‘s quarters on his research ship. His team had already headed their separate ways now that all the data was collected, so Killian was curious who would be knocking shortly after lunch on a weekday. He opened the door, and his heart practically stopped when he saw Emma standing there, her cheeks flushed and a sheepish grin lifting her lips. She twisted her beanie nervously in her hands. 

“Is it true?” she asked him.

“Um,” Killian shook his head, “is what true?”

“You want to put down roots here in Storybrooke?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Aye, I do.”

Emma’s eyes searched his. “Why here? I mean, what reason would you have to stay?”

“Oh Emma,” he said softly, reaching out to touch her cheek, “don’t you know? It’s you.”

A single tear slid down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. “Good,” she said with a sparkle in her tear filled eyes. Then she slid her hand around his neck and dug her fingers into the ends of his hair. With agonizing slowness, she pulled his lips down to hers. 

They were home. 

**Six Months Later . . . **

Killian shivered as Emma hooked her toes around the hem of his pajama pants and slid her ice cold feet up his leg. Her arm came around his bare chest as she pulled herself flush against him.

“You’re so warm,” she mumbled against his upper back.

He grinned as he turned in her embrace. “Well, you did once ask me to warm your bed, love.” 

She smirked as he fiddled with the buttons of her pajama top, which matched the pants he wore. 

“I asked nothing of the sort.”

Killian nuzzled his nose into her collarbone and grinned as she shivered. “That’s the way I remember it,” he mumbled against her skin as he edged her shirt open farther. He slipped another button open. “You don’t actually need this top, do you?”

As the sun rose higher over Storybrooke, Mrs. Jones’s pajama top and Mr. Jones’s pajama bottoms ended up discarded on the floor. 

Reunited at last. 


End file.
